It feels good to move, to explore your territory, to follow scents and sounds through the tangle of cement and stone. You make it back to the den a couple of hours later.
The sun is higher in the sky, the putrid reek of the city settling in. But that's not the only thing you smell. Vicky's scent is fresh on the wind. You can also pick out Minjo's quieter more human aroma coming from somewhere nearby.
The rest of your pack are inside. You should spend some time with them, affirming your pack bonds... or some shit. Really, you just need a distraction from the ringing of the moon.
The next few hours are hell.
You spend some time alone, playing games on your phone, breathing, pretending you don't hear your packmates arguing. Eventually Minjo finds you and sets you to work scrubbing dishes.
Or, more accurately, destroying the non-stick frying pan with a metal scrub.
You can't bring yourself to care.
You're tired, angry, and the moon is being one evil son of a bitch.
ripripripriprip
Objectively you know it's no different from any other month. But, this time it feels worse. So much worse. You can feel your wolf stirring beneath the surface, bristling, growling, and thirsting for war.
That should scare the shit out of you. The wolf is riding high inside you. You're close to being exactly the sort of monster you always promised yourself you'd never be... but for some reason you're not scared. You're just... angry.
It gets worse when the sun sets and the moon rises into the sky. You keep busy, talking, cleaning, breaking up fights when you need to. But then...
Here.
Next
All conversations in the den die as suddenly as a candle dropped in water. You stop scrubbing your pan. Beside you Elma drops her dish towel.
"What's going on?" Minjo asks.
No one answers. You're all silent, heads cocked, ears pricked, listening.
It was a howl. The sort of howls you send each other when you're hunting.
It was Ed who'd howled. That makes sense. Ed and Vicky are on patrol. They left an hour ago. But why are they hunting? Have they found something? If you're hearing short range howls like that they can't be far from the den...
Vicky's response comes a few seconds later. Smell it?
See it. Ed replies, faster than thought.
Where?
Here.
This howl is clearer than the last. You get a mental image of a small alleyway, dark and over shadowed by a large evergreen tree. There is something in it. A figure... But you can't pick out any details. It doesn't matter. You know that alleyway. It's close. It's too damn close.
Help? Sergi howls, loud and hungry.
The pack picks up the cry. Help?Help?Help?Help?
No. Ed responds.
Yes. Vicky says a fraction of a second later.
That's all they needed to hear.
"Wait!" Minjo cries as the pack surges towards the door.
To their credit, most of the pack listen to her. No matter what Ed and Vicky have found Minjo, the cubs, and the den still need to be protected. Sergi doesn't stop though, neither does Marco, or Addie.
You groan and follow them out the door.
Next
You smell it before you see it.
Vampire. Like old stale meat, festered, and cold. It's a smell that grates against you, like nails on a chalkboard. It's the smell of your enemy.
"Blackwell," Sergi snarls and picks up the pace.
But it isn't Blackwell.
It isn't even one of his grinning aproned minions.
The vampire stands on the street edge in a rather sad looking suit and tie, doing a great impression of an office worker counting down days until retirement. His face is grim, heavily lined, and half hidden massive blocky glasses. His white hair has been smoothed back in a half hearted effort to hide his bald spot. His hands are grasped apologetically in front of him.
Ed is standing in front of him, Vicky behind, blocking off his escape. Despite that, he doesn't seem the least bit alarmed.
"Hello," he says in a dull, tired voice.
No vampire comes this deep into your territory, this close to your den, to the cubs, and leaves in one piece. Not after what happened. You rush forward, your teeth already heavy and crude in your mouth.
The moon sings you on. A glorious war song.
KILLKILLKILLKILLKILL
"Wait!" Ed throws himself in front of you. "Jesus fucking Christ. Just wait a sec... you..." he turns to the vampire. "You don't look like the other vampires."
He's got that right. The vampire doesn't look as suave and composed as Blackwell did. Nor is he grinning like one of those mindless minions in the grocery store.
"You're not with Blackwell," Ed concludes.
"Indeed I am not, sir."
"Who gives a fucking shit," Sergi snaps. "It's on our territory. Kill it."
A low rumble of growls.
ripripripripriprip
bitebitebitebitebite
hunthunthunthunt
killkillkillkill
"Why are you here?" Ed says quickly. Too quickly. His hands are hovering off his hips, palms facing the pack, as if trying to hold an invisible wall between everyone and the vampire. "You knew we were here. You knew what we'd do. Why did you come?"
"I'm a messenger."
"For who?"
"My master."
"Well that's vague as shit," Marco mutters.
"Who the fuck is your master?" Sergi snaps.
"I'm not at liberty to say."
Another chorus of growls, louder, hungrier than the last.
KILLKILLKILLKILL
"Whatever you are at liberty to say you better say it fast," Ed whispers.
Next
The vampire peers at the pack through his glasses. "Yes. Very well." He rubs his hands together. The first nervous gesture you've seen... and it looks as rehearsed as a community stage play. "You want Blackwell, yes?"
"Yeah," you hear yourself say. "Do you know where he is?"
His shakes his head. "Unfortunately not. But I do know the one thing that can flush him out."
"And that is?"
"The Night King."
"The Night King?" Marco repeats the words slowly. "You serious? Like the blue guy from Game of Thrones?"
"The Night King is the head of the Night Court in this city," the vampire explains. "He presides over all vampires here."
"Wait. For real?" Marco's laugh rings in the air. "You call the big boss vampire 'Night King'? That's corny as hell. And I thought 'Alpha' was bad."
If the vampire is bothered by Marco's mocking, he doesn't show it. "The King has the power to decree Blackwell's avoidance of your pack unlawful," he says smoothly "If he does so, Blackwell would be forced to face you. He wouldn't dare endanger his spot on the court, or the King's favour, by refusing a Royal Order."
"I don't know about you," Marco mutters, "but I still feel like we're talking about Game of Thrones."
"Why would the King do that for us?" Ed asks.
Next
"The King likes Blackwell. But the King is also..." the vampire purses his lips, evidently choosing his next word with care. "...fickle. My master thinks you might be able to convince him of Blackwell's wrong doing, if you were to see him in person."
"Wait," Marco says. "Hold the fuck up. Are you saying...?"
"You want us to talk to the Vampire King," you finish for him. "Why?"
"It's a trap," Sergi insists through sharp teeth. "Fucking leach is trying to trick us."
"My master does not like Blackwell," the vampire continues. "Truth is, not many on the court do. Blackwell is young, less than five hundred years old, and far too good at currying favour with those—"
"You're avoiding the question," you say.
The vampire's eyes flick to you. "I assure you, sir, I am not."
"You want us to go to this Night Court," Sergi snarls, stepping forward. "To bow down to some leech 'king' and beg. Why the fuck should we do that?"
"Because," the vampire says. "You're in a war with Blackwell... and you are losing."
Next
"Fuck you," Sergi moves forward. "We're going to kill that son of a bitch." The edges of his body blur. "Filthy fucking dead th—"
Ed steps in front of him. "Sergi! Stop!"
Sergi shoves Ed aside.
Instantly, Vicky is there. She seizes Sergi by the arm and hauls him roughly back. When she speaks her voice is low, flat, and deadly. "You touch my brother again, and I'll kill you."
The vampire isn't wringing his hands anymore. He's standing as still as a statue, watching the interaction with unblinking eyes. It occurs to you that this might be what a nervous vampire actually looks like. Not fidgety like a human, but still. A vampire that's forgotten, for a moment, to pretend to be alive.
It only lasts a moment. Sergi stops, looks at Ed, then turns aside. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I... I didn't mean..."
The vampire notices you watching him and blinks a very practised looking blink. "Please. I mean no offence. But, as things stand, Blackwell is winning. I don't know what he did to you, but it worked. You've broken down every door in this city. You've reminded the entire paranormal community why we fear the full moon. Now, every hunter in this city is stocking up on silver."
"We can deal with hunters," Ed says.
Can we? Marco howls.
Shut up. Ed responds.
Next
"Blackwell has done this before," the vampire says. "It's how he controls fledglings in his part of the city. It's how he destroyed the last pack of wolves."
For a few seconds no one says anything. You feel like you've just been slapped.
"What?" Marco whispers.
Ed is a little more articulate. "There was another pack?"
"There were two packs," the vampire explains, lacing his fingers together. "I believe this was two decades ago, perhaps. Blackwell pitted them against each other, I know not how. In the end, one pack was decimated, the other destroyed. The surviving pack left. There were a few scattered wolves in the city for months after, looking for Blackwell, and a lost pup, but they didn't last. Hunters picked them off."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Marco rakes a hand through his hair. "You're telling us he's done all this shit before? He's killed a whole pack? Why? What the fuck is the point? What does he get out of doing this shit?"
"I don't know," the vampire answers. "But my master believes if you speak to the King you may have a chance to prevent history from repeating itself. Blackwell will have to emerge... and perhaps that particular thorn can be pulled out of our sides."
Next
Ed doesn't protest. You can see from the firm set of his lips and the downward direction of his gaze that he hates this... but he knows arguing won't change your mind.
Your howls echo the moon's.
The vampire tries to flee. It doesn't do any good. You're faster... and there are a dozen of you, all moving in tandem. Even without an Alpha driving the pack together, it's swift easy work.
The wolf in you is disappointed that it's over so fast.
You beat back that thought. You're not a monster. You're a person... a person who's been pushed to the fucking limit. You're not going to let another vampire pull your strings, no matter how politely they ask.
Next
A card slips out of the dead vampire's sleeve. Written on it in a neat flowing hand is a time, an address, and two words.
Carpe Noctem.
You're not an idiot... and you have a feeling that vampire wasn't either. Even if he's dead, his message has been delivered. This is when and where you have to be to meet this 'Night King'.
"Vampires," Marco mutters, shaking his arms to work out the tension. "Fucking creepy. No matter which way you look at them. Creepy."
"Yeah," you mutter.
"Let's get back to the den," Addie says. "I think we need to talk about this, with everyone."
Marco snorts. "What we need is a damn Alpha."
Those words are like knives. Dangerous. More so than they look.
No one contradicts him.
Next Chapter